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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317552">Anything but Normal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandsGray/pseuds/EnglandsGray'>EnglandsGray</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who You Really Are [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-The Final Problem, Sherlolly - Freeform, so much more to come..., teaser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:28:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandsGray/pseuds/EnglandsGray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet walk in the park, and a chance to make a difference.</p><p>A scene from about two-thirds of the way through a WIP, which is Sherlolly at heart, and further explores their relationship and those between Sherlock and his brother and their family.  This scene felt quite powerful, so I decided to post it as a stand-alone.  Think of it as a trailer... </p><p>Set within the world of my original fiction - Who You Really Are.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who You Really Are [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Anything but Normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh my goodness I can't wait to share the whole thing with you - no excuse needed to write more Sherlock and Molly, but I am loving writing about Sherlock and Mycroft and how the events of Series 4 might have affected their relationship.  I'm making progress, but it's a complicated one... Very much hope you enjoy this in the mean time.  </p><p>These characters are only mine in that they live in my heart &lt;3<br/>All credit and all love to the creators and the BBC.</p><p>Find me on tumblr, if you like - englandsgray </p><p>Xx</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Baker Street</p><p>The next morning.</p><p> </p><p>Molly was so pleased Sherlock’s friend had made him agree to ten o’clock, rather than first thing.  At 8:45am, he was still absolutely fast asleep next to her.  Rosie had already woken up and Molly had taken her through to her Dad, who had slept on the settee. </p><p>Molly had considered getting into the shower, but the temptation to just lie with him a bit longer was too much to resist.  She looked at Sherlock, laid on his back, his face turned towards her, restful and unlined.  She would never stop being amazed that she got to see that, that she had the power to help him rest, to give him comfort.  His right hand was between them on the mattress.  Molly smiled, remembering waking briefly a few hours before to find Rosie’s little fingers wrapped around his thumb, both of them snoring gently.    </p><p>She reached out, threading her fingers not into the hand between them, but instead into the one held against his front by the brace.  He told her that when she did that, his whole arm and shoulder relaxed and the aching eased.  She watched him sigh in his sleep now, his chest and stomach rising and relaxing less than a foot in front of her.  In the same bed.  She rubbed her thumb over the material of his pyjama t-shirt, feeling the warmth of him, listening to the faint hum in his throat this touch prompted.  Molly knew she was smiling like a fool, her heart was skipping.  But did it matter, when there was no-one to judge her, now she was free to look and look to her heart’s content, to not stop herself or keep her reactions in check?</p><p>“Stop it,” Sherlock said, his eyes still closed.</p><p>Molly startled.  “Stop what?”</p><p>“Fan-girling,” he smiled, one-sidedly, opening an eye.</p><p>She laughed, felt herself flush.  “Go back to sleep,” she said.  “I haven’t played with your hair, yet.”</p><p>__________</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you’re comfortable?  Because I can…”</p><p>“You know, there are downsides to Considerate Sherlock,” Molly sighed.  “Stop fussing.  I’m fine – I hardly ever get pain in my shoulders and neck now, it’s a lot better.  And besides, you’ve got the worst job…”</p><p>At that very moment the bloodhound decided to stop dead in its tracks, to sniff a particular and apparently highly interesting patch of grass, causing Sherlock to have to stop suddenly, too.  They both turned to watch the dog.  Molly had Rosie on her front in the carrier, she suspected this could be one of the last times, if not the last time, she would have the pleasure; the baby really was getting to the point of not being the baby anymore. </p><p>“Come on, Toby,” Sherlock encouraged the dog, who responded, coming back to Sherlock’s heel wagging it’s tail.  Molly pictured Mocha, the spaniel she had shared with Tom.  Another highly intelligent, highly stubborn creature.  Mocha, that is. </p><p>“My Toby was here first,” Molly pointed out, watching Sherlock looking down fondly at the other.</p><p>“Hmm,” Sherlock eyed her.  “And let us not forget the fate of any man who tries to convert a Crazy Cat Lady.” He drew his finger across his throat. </p><p>Molly shook her head at him, failing to fully supress a smile. </p><p>A couple walking towards them on the path, pushing a pram, smiled as they passed, one wishing them 'good morning'.  Molly responded, Sherlock didn’t.  Molly was reminded that they might do a good impression of a ‘normal’ couple, out walking in Regent’s Park on a Saturday morning with a baby and a dog, but they were anything but.  And she absolutely <em>loved</em> that.</p><p>She threaded her hand through Sherlock’s elbow, squeezing herself to his side for a moment.  It was too awkward to walk like that for long, with the dog between them, but she basked for a second or two, imprinting the feel of his lips on the top of her head.</p><p>They walked in silence for a while then, pausing on the brow of Primrose Hill.  Though they might scoff, deep down no Londoner would ever tire of the view from this spot.  Molly was no exception.  She took a deep breath.  Sherlock shifted beside her, then took her right hand in his left.  Molly froze, looked down at their entwined fingers, matched his pressure, carefully.  Then, very gently, she kissed his shoulder through his coat, before looking up at him.  She felt tearful.</p><p>“I have to go away,” he told her.</p><p>Molly took a steadying breath.  “What can I do?” she asked.</p><p>“Take care of yourself.”</p><p>She looked into his eyes, saw his fear, felt her heart reach for him.    </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Molly looked down at her phone, vibrating on the countertop.  His name illuminated on the screen.  She hesitated.  Her heart was ready to break, it wouldn’t take much.</em>
</p><p><em>S</em>h<em>e picked up the handset and tapped the green dot.  </em></p><p>
  <em>"Hello, Sherlock,” she said. </em>
</p><p><em>“Molly</em>,”<em> his voice was low, measured, like he was in no hurry.  One word and she was already closing her eyes, pushing down tears, without success.</em></p><p><em>“How </em>are<em> you?” she made herself speak.</em></p><p><em>"I'm</em> <em>fine,” he said. “Did you have a good Christmas?”</em></p><p>
  <em>Would their last ever exchange be small talk?  Molly shook her hand in front of her to try to dispel some tension.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It was okay. Until Boxing Day.”</em>
</p><p><em>“John</em> <em>or Mary?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Both.  John phoned, Mary came over,” she told him. She didn’t tell him how long she’d cried after Mary left.  She didn’t tell him that Mary had told her the truth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They both ran out of words.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It might only be six months,” he said, eventually.</em>
</p><p><em>“</em>O<em>r it might be a lot longer,” she replied.  </em></p><p><em>“It </em> <em>might be.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Tears poured down Molly’s face, she pressed her hand over her mouth for a moment.  She’d survived him telling her to her face he was going to die, watched him fall seventy feet, watched him walk away and not reappear for two years, moved on from him and then come crashing back when he did… </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ll still be here,” she cursed herself internally for letting him hear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Take care of yourself.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Back on the hill, their hometown as witness, Molly pushed herself onto her tiptoes and kissed Sherlock, bringing her hand to his cheek.  One vitally important difference, this time, from which she could draw the strength to wait for a jet to touch back down, or not.</p><p>“I love you,” he said into the space between them when their lips parted.</p><p>“I love you."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed &lt;3<br/>I'd love to hear your thoughts - what do you reckon has gone on...? :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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